Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 127484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
I’d go back to Piper. I’d get rid of Stone. And then I’d leave her life forever. Give her a chance at a happiness that she’d never get with me.
Eighteen
Knox
During the long drive back to the cabin, I’d been filled with a feeling of wrongness. A churning in my gut for every mistake I’d made since I’d brought her here. The biggest one was touching her, giving in to my needs. Yet my steadfast resolve melted with every mile I grew closer to her, hungry, ravenous for the salvation she provided. The knife through my flesh no longer did anything. No release, no purification. Nothing.
She was it.
Could I let her go?
No.
I knew that instinctively. I would have to make her let me go. Make her hate me. The idea sent acid through my chest.
My dread crawled higher up my throat, strangling me with unease, and I knew something was wrong the second I turned off the highway onto the overgrown road that led to the cabin. The overhang of trees that had partly obscured the road had been disturbed. It had rained, and there were fresh tire tracks in the drying mud.
My foot flattened on the gas of the SUV, tearing down the road, my guts in my throat. Something told me I was too late, yet I did something I never did… I hoped. Fucking hoped that somehow, Piper was still there, breathing, battling. Hoped that I could get there to kill every single intruder to our cabin, whoever dared come near my woman.
There were no cars when I pulled up to the cabin, but the front door was wide open, so I knew. I fucking knew.
They’d come. Found us somehow.
And they’d taken Piper from me.
I’d done this. By leaving in the first place. By wishing that she would be rid of me. And now she was. Rid of one horror yet thrust into another that would strip her of everything, if it hadn’t already.
My palms slammed down on the steering wheel.
“Fuck!” I roared, unable to keep the cool that had been my trademark for however long. Since I made my first kill, ruined my already tattered soul.
Except it wasn’t ruined, my soul. It seemed there was a shred of it left, enough for Piper to hold on to, to fucking own.
My boots sunk into the mud as I got out of the car, not even bothering to draw my gun. There was no one there. Senses honed over years told me that.
Inside, I took in the cabin, the curtains blowing in the crisp wind, the unmade bed that still fucking smelled of her. The flowers in the vase were drying at the petals, about to die, still hanging on.
Her presence was undeniable, her absence fucking visceral.
The painting was gone too. That didn’t matter. I had it etched in my brain. Seared into my insides.
I’d find her. I had to find her. Alive. Stone took her, it had to have been him. The loss of the painting meant he’d gained the knowledge that Piper was something more to me. That she was everything. I knew the man well enough to know that he was going to try to prove that only he could own her. He’d use Piper as an example of how no one crossed him.
My fists clenched at my sides, thinking of him laying a finger on her.
If he did, I’d put her back together. And if she was too broken to fix, I’d love every single piece of her till the moment I died. Then I’d tear Stone apart with my bare hands.
My plans for revenge were cut short by a cool barrel against my temple. I hadn’t even noted that someone had entered the cabin. Clumsy, too fucking clumsy of me. Not that I was afraid of death, but if whomever this was pulled the trigger, Piper would be fucking doomed.
And that was unacceptable.
“You better be ready to die,” I said to the person holding the gun to my temple. “Because I sure as fuck am not.”
Nothing, not even a bullet, would stop me from getting to my woman.
Piper
They’d come in the night.
I hadn’t been sleeping. I hadn’t slept well since Knox left. Couldn’t sleep in the bed that smelled of us. Of him.
I’d been waiting for him to come back. He hadn’t left me. Of that I was sure, once the sting of abandonment had worn off. What was between us was real. Was solid.
There was no acting there, there was no escaping or running from it.
Knox had left because he had to. For whatever reason, I didn’t know.
What I did know was that he was coming back. I had to trust in him. I’d forced myself to go about my days, not wallowing, not crying. Tending to the garden, cooking, reading, cleaning.
I hadn’t thought he’d be gone for long. We had enough food and supplies for about another week. He would likely not push it that far. Three days, maybe four was what I’d guessed.